


Hope is a Dangerous Road

by JoeyWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daydreaming, F/M, Happy Sam, Lonely Dean, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, Word prompt: longing, not the happiest ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12587864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeyWinchester/pseuds/JoeyWinchester
Summary: Dean is tired of being his dad's soldier, and misses his true sidekick.





	Hope is a Dangerous Road

Dean feels it all the time, ever since Sam left for Stanford. That empty space, that longing for his partner, his soulmate, his world. 

Sure, Dad always calls him his partner, but he just doesn't feel like it's a partnership at all. He feels more like a carbon copy sometimes. Like he's not his own person. 

It would feel so much different with Sam. He feels so much more himself when he's with his other half anyway, and hunting would be just like that, effortless.

It's not like the longing is always there, but when they're in a fox-hole like situation, he'd feel more comfortable in the thick of it with Sam. Sometimes his dad could be so obsessed, so laser focused, that Dean feels like he's not even there. "Partner my ass,"he thinks. 

All of this goes through his head as he makes his way to Palo Alto. To where Sam is. 

In his head, the situation would go like this: knock on his door, his Sammy would answer the door with no shirt on, pull Dean into his arms, lean into the crook of his neck and lick and suck the sensative skin there. Dean would suck in a breathe, holding his head back and away, pushing Sam into the room, onto the nearest chair or sofa, (hell, coffee table even.) There would be a moment or two of rubbing jean-clad cocks together and heavy petting, sucking and biting would get harder and more insistent. If they didn't come in their pants from it being so long since the last time and distance growing the cock harder (or whatever that chick flick saying is), Dean wouldn't last three thrusts and would come like a teenager. 

A horn honks him out of his fantasy and he shakes off his revelry. He's almost to his destination, the fantasy will soon become a reality anyway. He smiles at that. 

He pulls up to Sam's little studio apartment, the lights are on, so that's good. He's not at the library or at a geek philosophy club meeting or whatever. He's here, Sam is right inside that door and up the hall. He lets out the breath he was holding and gets out of the impala and heads up the stairs. 

He hears giggling, girl-giggling, and then there it is; Sam's voice, clear as day, "Stop what, Jess, stop what, say it!"  
"Stop tickling me Sammy, I mean it!" Squeels the voice. 

Girl. Giggling. Tickling. Sam using those very same words he'd use when Dean tickled him. GIRL CALLING HIM SAMMY! 

He doesn't knock, doesn't need to hear anymore. He retreats right back down the stairs he was so anxious to climb, and gets back into his car. 

He takes off at a slow pace as to not let his presence be known, and heads to the next town. Sopping at a bar, he drinks until close, and goes home with the bartender. It's angry sex and she likes it, thought he liked it, too, (according to all the grunting and growling,) but sees the look on Dean's face afterwords and wonders why he's so sad and lost.


End file.
